


Through Some Imagined Afternoon

by zzegnas



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Farmer Harry, M/M, Prince Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzegnas/pseuds/zzegnas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Prince James found a new world, a world he never knew could exist beyond the castle walls, and introduced himself as Niall, deeming his royal name unworthy.  It was a name to be loathed and seldom heard, never to be used in his presence, and the commoners accepted him like one of their own, never knowing his true bloodline.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His name is and always will be Niall, and there is no exception.</em>
</p><p>—<br/>Niall is the prince to a kingdom, preferring to live as un-princely as possible until a written agreement is to be honored, and will bind him to a life he does not know how to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackviolets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackviolets/gifts).



> A big thank you to the ever lovely [Caitlin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/la_faerie/pseuds/la_faerie) for reading this over!
> 
> This is for Tasha, who somehow already knew I had a princely plot in mind after the pictures of Niall dressed as Prince Charming had surfaced way back in late March. I hope it's to your liking!
> 
> This is a semi-fantasy/medieval piece, so clearly everyone's dialect is different. Oh, and I should probably note that there are mentions of death and violence, so please be wary of that! If I've left out any triggers, let me know.
> 
> So, without further ado, please read on and enjoy! :)
> 
> (Title from Clive Barker's "[ _Abarat: Absolute Midnight_](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/384199-i-dreamed-a-limitless-book-a-book-unbound-its-leaves)")
> 
>  
> 
> **PS: It's come to my attention this fic has been reposted on wattpad. Although this is a work of fiction, please do not post this elsewhere without my permission.**

Prince James lives as a prince should, with a few exceptions.  
  
He lives in the grandest castle of the kingdom, tucked away in the mountains with rows of guards that protect the royal family.  Or at least what’s left of them.  
  
The prince’s mother fell ill when he was a child, too young to remember why it happened and too young to understand the meaning of death.  His father, a strong and humble man, would not let fate determine destiny, and took to protecting his sons by any means necessary.  But once the prince’s older brother turned eighteen, he married to a princess in a different kingdom, never to be seen again except for a messenger who was sent to announce the princess was with child.  
  
With his youngest son, the king shielded him away from the public, making sure he stayed within the boundaries of the castle with his guards to keep watch.  But as the prince grew older, he rebelled against his father’s rules, finding secret passages in the castle and sneaking past the guards to explore the kingdom.  His father feared the worst when he learned of his son’s secret, and came to accept, after much soul searching, that the young prince was no longer a child.  
  
Prince James found a new world, a world he never knew could exist beyond the castle walls, and introduced himself as Niall, deeming his royal name unworthy.  It was a name to be loathed and seldom heard, never to be used in his presence, and the commoners accepted him like one of their own, never knowing his true bloodline.  
  
His name is and always will be Niall, and there is no exception.  
  
—  
  
On most days, Niall helps the servants of the castle, even when they protest that they are there for his needs.  But they give in to his pleas, as they always do, and spoil him with the treats he loves best.  
  
Armand, a servant in the stables of the castle, falls ill for some time.  Niall offers to take his place until he’s better, learning to groom and feed the horses.  Niall finds them to be fascinating creatures, their silence and subtle gestures to be studied as if it were a new language.  And the first time he takes his horse, a caramel mare named Theia, to run in the pasture, he’s absolutely in awe of her beauty and freedom in the land that will soon be his own.  
  
When the stable runs low on food, Niall tags along with Ivan, the stable master and his closest friend, and together they travel by carriage to a farm not too far away to replenish their sources.  Niall is unfamiliar with the path leading to their destination, entranced by the rich scent of the earth.  The neverending lines of trees darken their journey until he sees a large house in the distance, its equally large barn looming behind with workers and animals.  
  
The carriage comes to a stop under a tree beside the barn where two farm hands are already waiting for them.  Ivan gives the older man a handshake, walking together inside of the barn while the younger man—“the name’s Liam, that’s my father with Ivan,” he said with a firm handshake—helps Niall stack the bales of hay onto the carriage, along with several bags of oats and vegetables.  
  
The next time Ivan goes back to the farm, Niall joins him again, and Liam is already waiting for them by the time they arrive.  The two boys talk as they’re working, their conversation interrupted when a deep voice comes up from behind them, immediately catching Niall’s attention.  
  
“Liam, are these for the king’s stable, too?”  
  
Niall can barely see the other farm hand speaking to Liam, just tufts of curls and a dirty white tunic hiding behind three stacks of dried green grass.  Liam helps him place the bales onto the carriage and Niall’s suddenly short of breath, his heart beating against his chest when he finally sees the farm hand in front of him.  Niall meets his gaze and they both turn away, his cheeks feeling warm from the young man’s presence.  
  
Liam’s mother invites Niall and Ivan inside her home for a quick drink, serving them a glass of honey whiskey she’d bought just the day before.  Niall talks with Liam’s mother for a while and finds her overbearingly sweet, perhaps a mother figure he could call his own.  As soon as his glass is empty he excuses himself to sit by the carriage, and finds the farm hand from earlier in front of Ivan’s horse, feeding it an apple.  
  
“Hello,” he smiles as soon as he notices Niall.  “I’m Harry.  What’s your name?”  
  
Niall opens his mouth, but all that comes is a strange noise.  He’s always been able to speak to anyone he meets, and Harry’s already left him speechless within two sentences.   _Surely_ , he thinks, _I must be under some sort of spell_.  
  
“You’re unable to speak,” Harry realizes, “forgive me, I–”  
  
“No, I can!” Niall blurts out, biting the inside of his cheek.  “I can, I just,” he looks away, nervously mumbling, “m-my name is Niall.  Niall is my name.”  
  
Harry nods, running his hand along the horse’s nose.  “Has Armand been replaced?  I'm used to seeing him when Ivan needs his supplies.”  
  
“He hasn’t,” Niall toes at the dirt, “he’d eaten something spoiled and well, I think you can guess what happened next.  I offered to help as soon as I’d heard.”  
  
“Ah,” Harry murmurs.  He doesn’t seem too concerned for Armand, cleaning off his hands with a shrug.  “I’m glad you’ve come along.  It’s nice to see someone new, even if you are a bit,” he pauses, looking Niall up and down, “fancy.”  
  
“Fancy?  How?” Niall asks, seemingly perplexed.  
  
Harry shrugs again, petting the horse’s nose.  “Don’t normally see hired hands wearing decorative leather.”  
  
Niall looks at his clothes, taking notice of what Harry meant.  His white tunic is tailored to his body and his brown leather waistcoat embroidered with his family’s coat of arms shows off his thin frame, unlike Harry’s shirt that simply hung off his shoulders, its sleeves a touch too short above his wrists.  When Niall looks up, most of Harry’s face is hidden by the horse’s ear, but his eyes are locked on Niall’s.  
  
Ivan calls for Niall as he’s leaving the house, and Harry steps aside, securing the ropes and leather straps of the carriage while they settle into their seats.  Niall is fascinated by Harry’s hands as he’s watching him, the history of hard work written all over his palms, fingertips calloused and rough.  Just as Ivan grabs the reins, Harry clears his throat, waving a hand in Niall’s direction to get his attention.  
  
“Come back soon, won’t you?”  
  
Niall holds his breath.  "I will."  
  
Ivan clicks his tongue at the horse and Harry makes way, waving at them as the carriage slowly rides down the grassy road.  Niall can’t help but look over his shoulder, watching Harry until he fades.  
  
“Nice to see your tongue in a twist, Your Highness,” Ivan snorts.  Niall bumps shoulders with him, but doesn’t hide the grin on his face.  “He’s a quiet one, that Harry.  Never heard him speak more than two words until today.”  
  
“Maybe he’s shy, you’re a little scary sometimes,” Niall jokes.  He notices Ivan’s curious gaze afterwards, and looks ahead when the castle comes into view.  “Don’t tell him.  I don’t want him to know.”  
  
“Your secret is safe.”  
  
—  
  
To Harry’s surprise, Niall comes back the next day without notice.  Right away, he can see Harry’s clothes are clean and his long hair is well groomed, parted to the side with curls that sit above his neck, highlighted by the late afternoon sun.  
  
“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” Harry grins as Niall jumps off his horse.  
  
“I gave you my word,” Niall softly tells him, “I wanted to see you.”  
  
Niall’s heart races the entire time Harry’s looking at him, desperate to understand why knots are forming in his stomach the closer they stand together, and why his throat suddenly closes up, leaving him to stammer.  
  
“Do you need something to calm down?” Harry asks him, worried.  “I’ll call for Liam’s mother, she can–”  
  
“No!” Niall accidentally shouts, startling Harry.  “There’s no need, I-I’m just nervous.”  
  
“You needn’t feel nervous around me, Niall.”  
  
“I know,” he whispers, and his heart beats even faster when Harry ducks his head to smile.  Niall steps closer to Harry, only to panic and take several steps back.  “I must go.  I-I can’t stay, I’ve–I have to–”  
  
“But you’ve only just arrived!” Harry quickly says, surprised.  
  
Niall reaches for Harry, only to pull back when his finger touches the back of Harry’s hand.  Harry’s eyes light up at the sensation and Niall holds his hand to his chest with a frightened expression, stammering unintelligible words again.  Niall quickly mounts his horse, tightly gripping the reins between his hands.  
  
“You are–” Niall manages to say, and Theia lets out an amused snort when her owner doesn’t finish his sentence.  “Forgive me, Harry,” he scrunches his lips, “I’ve come all this way and all I’ve done is waste your time.”  
  
Harry quietly sighs, weakly curling the side of his lip.  “I guess this is goodbye then.”  
  
—  
  
Harry’s words echo into the air as Niall’s riding back home; repeating, chanting, burning into his mind.  
  
He can’t keep fighting off the rush of excitement in his stomach just thinking about Harry, and Niall certainly doesn’t want Harry to think he’s frightened him away.  What he needs is to control the rush of emotion that overwhelms him, whatever spell it is that makes him so nervous around Harry.  
  
But Niall can’t break that spell, nor does he want to be free of it.  
  
Halfway between the castle and Harry’s home, Niall brings Theia to a halt, unsure of what to do.  Theia can tell her owner is torn between the two destinations, and makes the decision for him.  She slowly turns around, stamping her feet in the direction of the farm, getting her legs ready.  
  
“Hey!” Niall nudges her with his foot.  “Come on, let’s get back to the castle,” he tells her unconvincingly.  Theia shakes her mane and begins trotting down the road again, with a not-so defeated Niall grinning widely.  “All right, you win,” he laughs, “I’ll make sure he gives you extra apples,” and rides back as fast as he can to Harry.  
  
—  
  
Niall comes back in time for supper, and Liam’s mother is overjoyed to have a guest in her home.  “Why, Harry rarely ever invites anyone, it’s so nice to see someone new,” she croons, setting a plate of meat and potatoes in front of Niall.  She lightly ruffles his hair with a smile, then nods her head at her husband to say a quick prayer before they eat.  
  
Niall can’t help but look at Harry from the corner of his eye throughout supper, his pale skin leaving no room for subtlety when Harry looks back.  Liam’s parents pay no mind to their stolen glances while they talk, although Liam catches on somehow, giving Harry and Niall suspicious looks that last for a few seconds.  
  
“Quite strange, you two,” Liam suspects.  “Why’s your face been so red the entire time, Niall?”  
  
“Mind your tone, brother,” Harry retorts, then laughs when Liam flicks a piece of bread at his head.  
  
“Boys, please, we have a guest!” Liam’s mother loudly claps her hands after each word.  “I did not raise you to act like a bunch of fools the moment I turn away!”  
  
When Niall is ready to go back home, having eaten to the point of exhaustion, he and Harry walk beside each other, admiring the deep orange sky as they approach Theia.  Harry pets her nose and puts an apple in front of her, smiling when she happily eats the fruit from his hand.  
  
“She’s a beautiful horse.  So calm and peaceful.”  
  
“That’s why I like her,” Niall smiles.  “She’s named after a goddess, you know,” he adds, hoping to impress Harry.  “Theia, the goddess of sight and brightness.”  
  
“May she lead you home safely through darkness,” Harry softly recites in a prayer-like manner.  
  
They stay quiet for some time until Theia nudges her nose on Harry’s shoulder, pushing him towards Niall.  Harry laughs when she keeps pushing him forward and Niall stays where he is, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.  
  
“I-I’m really glad you stayed,” Harry confesses, both of them blushing when they look at each other.  “Will you come back again?”  
  
Niall curls his lip into a smile, nodding enthusiastically.  “I’d love to.”  
  
—  
  
Behind the barn of Liam’s home is a large open field, the entrance surrounded by a wooden fence with little chicks chirping and chasing each other in the grass.  The barn offers some of its shade from the sun, shielding Harry and Liam as they practice their sword fighting with wooden replicas.  
  
It’s been a few days since Niall last visited, and Liam is the first to see him before Harry, waving excitedly in his direction.  Niall turns red the moment Harry smiles, waving shyly across the field, then laughs when Liam teases him, resulting in a pushing match between the two.  
  
“All right, enough!  We’ll settle this like men, brother.  I fancy one more round before supper, so lay down your rules,” Liam says, digging his wooden sword into the ground.  
  
“Winner gets second helpings of your mum’s meat pies,” Harry dusts off his trousers, standing tall.  “And a full glass of honey whiskey.  No water, no tricks!”  
  
“Draw your sword!”  
  
Harry and Liam put up their weapons, carefully circling each other before they begin their fight.  Niall eagerly leans against the fence, watching the two farm hands practicing their fighting skills.  In the last few days he’s watched them, he’s been able to note their nuances, the little things that make Liam a completely different fighter from Harry.  
  
Liam is aggressive and calculated, the tight grip on his sword almost that of a man who’s fought a hundred wars, grunting under his breath whenever he strikes forward.  Harry is graceful and precise, the look of determination on his face seemingly a mirror image of Liam’s own.  Niall admires the way Harry can easily block all of Liam’s hits, moving forward and backward as if he were gliding over the dirt.  
  
A loud _clack!_ strikes the air when their swords hit at the same time, startling Niall.  The two push against each other until Liam gains the upper hand, leaving Harry to stumble backwards.  
  
“Hah!” Liam shouts when he manages to get a hit under Harry’s ribs.  Niall grimaces when Harry lets out a loud grunt, and Harry kicks his foot hard enough under Liam’s knee, making him lose his balance and fall flat on his back.  Liam tries to get up, only to stay down when Harry points the tip of his sword under Liam’s chin.  
  
“Nice try,” Harry smirks, pulling his arm back.  “Mind the ribs next time.”  There’s a pause between them before they both laugh, and Harry holds out a hand to bring Liam to his feet.  
  
Niall climbs the fence and walks toward them, shaking hands with Liam before he runs off to the house.  Harry and Niall are left alone, a small distance keeping them apart in the vast acreage of the farm.  Harry’s breathing hard from his practice, and beads of sweat trickle down the sides of his face, his smile brighter than the late afternoon sun.  
  
“Were you entertained?” Harry smugly asks.  
  
“More than you think.”  
  
Harry grins and they head inside of the cool barn, walking to a corner where a small bowl of clean water sits on a table.  Niall leans against the wall, watching as Harry cleans his hands, face, and neck.  Harry takes off his dirty tunic and Niall’s eyes go wide at the sight of a large scar between Harry’s shoulder blades.  Niall’s mind soon fills with thoughts of reaching out and touching Harry’s skin, feeling every curve and bump of his body, but he stays still, forcing himself to remain calm.  
  
As Harry’s wiping himself off with a cloth, he misses a droplet of water just below the nape of his neck, slowly trickling over his scar.  Niall forgoes staying calm and clears his throat to make his move.  
  
“Niall, what is it?” Harry asks, surprised.  
  
“You’ve missed a spot.”  
  
Niall takes the cloth from Harry and reaches around him, slowly wiping off the droplet, the warmth of their bodies leaving them flushed when Niall's finished.  Niall can’t help but keep his eyes on Harry’s mouth, watching them slowly move towards his own.  The skin of their lips barely touch, a light kiss that makes Niall think he’s going to faint.  
  
“I-I’d like to show you something,” Harry nervously lets out, “will you come?”  
  
—  
  
Niall has his hands on Harry’s hips, his chest flush against Harry’s back as they’re riding together on a chestnut horse through the woods.  Harry clicks his tongue and the horse gallops even faster, keeping their heads low from the branches above them.  The air around them grows colder and Harry looks over his shoulder when Niall shivers against him.  
  
“We’ll be there soon, just hold on to me!” Harry shouts, and Niall gladly tightens his grip.  
  
The horse slows down as they approach a small lake, a portion of it covered by the shade of a white willow tree.  Several oak trees surround them, the lush green grass beneath untouched with little patches of white flowers spread throughout.  
  
They come to a stop and Niall jumps off first, followed by Harry who slowly leads his horse towards the water, securing its reins on a low branch.  Niall lies back under the shade, enjoying the cool grass, and smiles when Harry lies beside him.  
  
“This place is beautiful,” Niall holds his hand up, catching a falling leaf.  “I know every part of this kingdom and yet I’ve never been here.”  
  
“I imagine you don’t get to do much traveling when you work for the king,” Harry chuckles.  Niall quickly turns to face him, wondering if Harry knew the truth of his royal lineage; but thankfully his eyes are closed, and his mouth curled into a soft smile.  
  
Niall looks back up to the branches of the tree, watching them dance from the breeze of the water before them.  He can hear Harry moving around, both of them shifting their bodies to face each other.  
  
“How long do you think this place has been here?”  
  
“Forever, maybe,” Harry laughs softly.  “Might have been here as long as the monastery on the hills.”  They both look over at the same time, searching for the large faded blue domes in the distance.  “Have you ever been there?” Harry asks.  
  
“A few times, yes.  It’s nice to go someplace where the monks will keep your secrets.”  
  
“And how many secrets do you have, o mysterious Niall?”  
  
Niall doesn’t answer and Harry lies back down, tucking his hands behind his head with his eyes closed.  
  
“I can’t imagine living as a monk, really.  I can’t imagine living as anything but a farmer with Liam’s family.”  
  
"I thought you were brothers?" Niall tilts his head, curious.  
  
"Adopted," Harry opens one eye, "I suppose it might have been our hair that gives us away," he laughs.  
  
"Yours is a bit longer, but yes," Niall chuckles.  “How long have you been living with him?”  
  
“My entire life.  Liam and his family helped me when I couldn’t help myself,” he says quietly, “I am forever grateful for what they’ve done.”  
  
Harry tells Niall his family died when he was five, victims over an unpaid debt.  His mother left him in a secret passageway under their home, making him promise to stay quiet until it was safe.  The doors burst open and Harry covered his ears, pressing his hands as hard as he could when he heard his mother’s screams.  He remained in the passageway for hours, frightened someone else would come for him if he made even the slightest sound.  And as soon as he saw the sun rise, he emerged from the house, only to find the dead bodies of his parents, lying lifeless as he tried to wake them up.  
  
“I ran away as fast as I could and somehow found my way to Liam’s farm,” Harry blinks, eyes welling up.  “He saw me crying my eyes out in the middle of the fields, screaming for my mother, and all he could do was hug me.  When he brought me to his mum and dad, they told me that their home was now my home, that I wouldn’t be alone anymore,” Harry sniffles, wiping his nose.  “Liam’s father says I still own the land where I once lived, but I don’t think I could ever go back.  My home is and always will be here with Liam’s family.”  
  
Niall can feel his heart breaking, trying to imagine the horror of what Harry’s been through.  He’d lost his mother when he was nine, watching her body thinning in the days that passed until he could no longer recognize her.  But he remembers holding her hand, saying his final goodbyes before her body was finally taken.  
  
“I’ve just spoiled everything,” Harry sits up, wiping his nose with a forced smile.  “I didn’t bring you here to watch me cry,” he laughs.  Harry rises to his feet and walks back to his horse with Niall catching up.  “I’ll take you back to the–”  
  
“You didn’t spoil anything,” Niall cuts in, putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder.  Harry stops in his tracks, keeping his head down while his eyes look over to Niall.  “It means a lot to know these things about you, Harry.   _Intimate_ things.  No matter what you want to talk about, I’ll always listen.”  
  
Harry fully turns to face him, biting his lips together.  “So will I.”  
  
—  
  
In the days that pass, Niall begins to make sense of what he feels for Harry, even if the words only make sense in his head.  He tries to say them out loud at night when no one can hear him, but all that comes out is a mess of stammers and sounds reminiscent to that of the chickens that run amuck on the farm.  
  
And in the times Niall lies in bed, the moments where his eyes lightly flutter as he’s falling asleep, the beat of his heart becomes too much when he thinks about the soft touch of Harry’s lips and how warm they felt against his, wishing he could have them for his own when he dreams into the night.  He can only wonder if Harry would ever dream of him, too.  
  
—  
  
Since Armand’s return to the stables, Niall visits Harry every other day, and together they ride through the woods; Harry in front, and Niall holding onto him.  The white willow and the lake becomes their sanctuary, the one place where their duties at the farm and the castle no longer matter.  
  
The hours they spend together are gone as quickly as they arrive, and as the day comes to a close, they lie beside each other, their heads lightly touching while they watch the sun sinking into the horizon.  
  
“Would you always want this?  Being here together?”  
  
“For as long as it lasts, Niall.  The days you return are my happiest.”  
  
The last of the sunset glimmers in Harry’s eyes when he faces Niall, its green luster bright and enchanting.  Niall can’t help but smile, closing his eyes in contentment.  
  
“I’ll always come back to you, Harry.”  
  
—  
  
The week after, Harry shows off his new dagger, admiring the craft of the blade between his calloused fingers.  He begins tossing it around, easily catching it and gracefully spinning it around with his hands.  Niall watches him the entire time, as Harry’s hands often sent him into a trance, wondering how they’d feel on his skin, touching every part of him that Harry’s yet to discover.  
  
“There was a notice in the king’s court today—a sword fighting tournament after the annual bonfire!” Harry exclaims, scraping the bark of the white willow tree with his dagger.  “It can’t come soon enough, Liam and I could easily win if we wanted.”  
  
Niall’s throat closes up, his insides tightening from worry, and it shows when Harry asks him what’s wrong.  
  
“Promise me you’ll be careful.  The men that fight in these tournaments are from the king’s guard, they were born and raised to be soldiers.”  
  
“It’s only a test of strength and agility,” Harry assures him.  “I can prove my skills with a sword are just as good as those soldiers, if not better.”  
  
“I’ve seen men die in these games, good men.  I’ve watched you practice and you’d make a fine swordsman, but–”  
  
“You don’t think I’m good enough,” Harry interrupts, clearly hurt.  
  
“I didn’t say that,” Niall breathes out, “I’m just worried.”  
  
“You speak as if I’m going to war,” Harry laughs, amused.  He puts a hand on Niall’s arm, his thumb lightly rubbing the inside of Niall’s wrist.  The sensation leaves Niall to close his eyes and savor Harry’s touch until his hand slips a moment later.  
  
“You're afraid something bad will happen, something you can’t be sure of.”  
  
Niall bites the inside of his cheek, looking at the ground between them where Harry’s hand sits.  Instinctively, Niall links their hands together, both of them feeling faint from each other’s touch once again.  
  
“Of all things I could be without, you aren’t one of them.”  
  
Harry’s eyes widen, surprised at Niall’s confession, and grips his hand a little tighter.  “No matter what happens, I promise we’ll always have this.”  
  
—  
  
Niall brings a long red silk ribbon to the white willow one afternoon, wrapping it around Harry’s body to cure his boredom.  Harry manages to untangle himself and takes the entire length of the ribbon, running fast enough through the woods where Niall can’t catch him.  
  
_Come and find me!_ Harry’s voice sings through the air.  
  
Niall finds the first half of the ribbon hanging over a branch and wraps it around his hand, happily following its trail.  “Better watch your back!” Niall shouts as he’s pulling on the red strip.  The trail stops when Niall unties the other end wrapped around a large tree trunk, with Harry nowhere to be seen.  Niall calls for him several times, his heart suddenly racing from worry when he’s met with silence.  
  
_Boo!_  
  
Niall shouts when Harry jumps on him, both of them falling to the ground and rolling over several times until the exposed roots of a large tree brings them to a halt.  They can’t stop themselves from laughing, then calm down as they lie on the damp forest floor surrounded by wildflowers coloured purple, red, and white.  
  
“You gave me a fright,” Niall rolls over above Harry, hands on either side of his shoulders.  The red ribbon had wrapped around them as they tumbled together, keeping their bodies close.  Niall doesn’t mind looking at Harry from this position, biting his lip when he feels Harry’s hand on the small of his back.  
  
“You didn’t think I’d run off, did you?” Harry snorts, threading his fingers through Niall’s petal-laden hair.  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t–” Harry pulls his hand away, but Niall grabs it at the right second, his thumb pulsing in the middle of Harry’s palm.  “I shouldn’t have done that,” Harry says apologetically.  
  
“I don’t mind,” Niall softly replies, letting his hand slip from Harry’s.  
  
Harry bites his lips and raises his hand again, his fingers removing the petals sitting above Niall’s ear.  The ghostly touch of Harry’s fingertips sends a chill through Niall’s body, breathing in deeply to contain himself.  He can’t help but notice Harry’s darkened lips, its scarlet shade calling to Niall to be touched.  
  
Niall slowly lowers his head and closes his eyes, letting his lips press against Harry’s for a moment.  He can feel the combined pulse of their heartbeats, pounding harder than either have ever felt before.  This was unlike the kiss they shared before, soft and fleeting; it’s warm and tender, and all the things Niall had dreamt about at night.  
  
“Niall, don’t,” Harry softly breathes out, eyes fluttering.  “You shouldn’t kiss me if you don’t feel the same.”  
  
“What do you feel?” Niall asks, nervous.  Harry swallows hard, his frightened expression leaving Niall on the verge of fainting if he’d made a mistake.  “Tell me,” he pleads.  “Please.”  
  
“I always feel so short of breath when we’re together,” Harry starts.  “I feel as though I’ll lose all ability to speak and end up making a fool of myself.  When we first met, it took me so long to say anything, because I knew I would stumble whenever you looked at me.  And yet, the way I’m looking at you now, I don’t even know how I’m thinking at all.  Perhaps I’m infatuated, but I know it’s more than that.  There aren’t enough words to explain any of what I feel for you.”  
  
Harry looks into Niall’s eyes, both of them breathless in each other’s arms.  All the words he needs to say can’t be said in this moment, and he fears saying too much would only make him look desperate, despite how ridiculous they both look being wrapped in a silk ribbon with flower petals over their heads.  
  
"Harry, all of these things, I’ve felt them too,” Niall says too quickly.  Harry lets out a breath of air, his hands softly cupping Niall’s face.  “Maybe the words don’t make sense to us now, but I know we can figure it out together.  And since we’ve met, I’ve wanted nothing more than to be with you."  
  
Harry immediately brings Niall down for another kiss, lips pressing harder than before.  “ _I want you too, Niall,_ ” Harry whispers, and he can feel the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing up, letting out a moan when Harry’s tongue meets his.  The red silk ribbon wraps them even tighter together when Harry rolls Niall onto his back to deepen their kiss, the sighs of their names resonating with the earth that surrounds them.  
  
—  
  
The night of the bonfire falls the same week as Niall’s twenty-first birthday, celebrating the departure of summer and the arrival of autumn.  Niall disguises himself with a black cloak, blending in among the commoners that drink and dance around in the king’s court.  
  
The shadows on the walls help him move from one place to another, searching for a pair of green eyes he hasn’t seen in a few days.  Niall stops along a corridor, recognizing Harry’s slender body almost immediately.  His hair glows bright with the embers of the fire in front of him, almost angelic when Niall stops to look at him.  Niall carefully makes his way to Harry, looking around before he takes Harry’s hand in his.  
  
Harry gasps and quickly turns around, finding Niall holding a finger to his lips.  “Come with me.”  
  
Harry nods and tightens his grip, running with Niall through the dark alleys of the court.  Niall leads the way to a winding staircase in a tower separated from the castle, normally used for guests that visit Niall’s father.  A large bed with dark purple satin sheets sits in front of them, the walls illuminated with gold from the many candelabras lit around the room, and numerous windows that see through every corner of the kingdom.  
  
“It’s beautiful here!” Harry says in awe as he looks around.  “Surely we can’t stay long, the guards will find us and we’ll be thrown out.”  
  
“You needn’t worry, we have this to ourselves tonight.”  
  
“I’ve heard only guests of the king can stay here, you must know him somehow.”  
  
Niall swallows a little, hiding his apprehension with a smile.  “It doesn’t matter,” he turns around, taking off his cloak and tossing it aside.  “This is for us.”  
  
Harry runs to Niall and takes his hand, walking back to the open window facing the bonfire.  “I’ve never seen it burn as brightly as it has tonight.  What a marvel,” Harry says, entranced.  His eyes glow in the brightness of the fire, and Niall’s heart beats so loudly through his chest he thinks Harry might be able to hear it.  
  
“Harry,” Niall barely whispers, and he turns his head, his features softened by the dark of night.  “I love you.”  
  
Harry’s eyes widen and he stands taller, his chest heaving up and down.  
  
“Even if you don’t love me that way, even if I have to spend the rest of my life wondering—”  
  
“No,” Harry interrupts, a smile forming on his lips.  “I love you too, Niall.”  
  
Niall steps forward and kisses Harry, holding on to each other as tightly as they can.  They walk towards the bed and fall down on the pool of purple satin, their hands on each other’s bodies as warm as the bonfire lit through the night, every touch and whisper of _I love you_ forever sealed into the walls of the tower.  
  
—  
  
Niall can feel himself running, breathless as he’s pushing past a crowd of people.  He breaks free and reaches out for someone’s shoulder, only to feel a sharp pain in his stomach that wakes him up almost instantly.  Niall puts a hand to his forehead as he’s coming to his senses, calming down when he feels Harry’s curls tickle his shoulder.  
  
With a smile, Niall moves closer and kisses Harry’s temple, letting out a soft moan when Harry drapes an arm over his waist.  “Good morning,” Harry mumbles, shifting his body towards Niall, nuzzling their noses together.  Harry nestles his head over Niall’s chest and they lie in each other’s arms, their bodies still aching from the night before.  
  
“I must go,” Harry whispers, lightly kissing Niall’s chin.  
  
“No, stay with me until it’s time,” Niall pleads, “don’t leave just yet.”  
  
“The tournament’s in a few hours, I mustn’t miss my chance.”  
  
Harry slowly climbs out of bed, leaving Niall to crawl towards the edge with the purple satin sheets wrapped around his waist.  He watches Harry put his clothes on, entranced once more by the large scar between Harry’s shoulders.  
  
“Your scar, how did you–” Niall stops himself, biting his lips together when Harry’s body tenses.  
  
He looks over his shoulder, then puts on his shirt before he sits down.  “The day I left home,” he pauses, hanging his head, “I crawled out from the passageway and I hadn’t any idea I’d cut my back.  Until Liam’s mother tended to it, I didn’t know I could feel so much physical pain.  It doesn’t bother me that much now, but I suppose it’s a crude reminder of my old life.”  
  
"Do you think about them?  Your mother and father, I mean."  
  
"Every day," Harry quietly says.  "I try to imagine them alive and well, but my head gets muddled sometimes.  Especially when I try to picture what it would be like if we hadn’t met," he fakes a smile, and Niall’s heart sinks.  “But I’m glad we did.”  
  
Niall leans in to kiss him, because no amount of words will ever make up for what Harry had to face as a child.  Their lips linger for a while, and soon Harry’s crawling back into bed with Niall, hungry for more until they hear the ringing of the church bells not too far away.  Harry apologizes and quickly puts on the rest of his clothes, kissing Niall one last time for good luck before he leaves.  
  
—  
  
As soon as Niall leaves the tower, he sneaks into the kitchens of the castle, eating the bread and fruits the servants left for him the night before.  He greets Ivan when he walks in, who advises him to meet his father in the library as soon as possible.  
  
Niall runs as quickly as he can up the concrete winding staircase, stopping to take a few breaths of air when he reaches the white and gold ornate doors.  He smoothes out his clothes and knocks lightly, finding his father pacing around the room, reading from a thick book in his hand.  
  
“Father, you wanted to see me?”  
  
“Ah, there you are.  Shut the door,” he says, and Niall does as he’s told.  His father takes a seat on one of the leather chairs near the open windows, linking his fingers together with a concerned expression.  “Your birthday’s coming up, you’ll be twenty-one years old, my goodness.  Where does the time go?”  
  
“It’s one day like any other,” Niall shrugs.  
  
“Yes, but you’ll be of age now.  You know what that means for you and the kingdom.”  
  
Niall furrows his brow, unsure of his father’s tone.  “I don’t understand, am I to join the guard or–”  
  
“You,” his father closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “are to be engaged to Duke Maxime’s daughter, Katarina.  I have already given my word to her father that this shall be announced the night of your yearly celebration.”  
  
Niall’s eyes widen, his heart sinking to his stomach that leaves his body trembling.  “Father, why?  Why have you done this without my consent!”  
  
“I didn’t have a choice, Niall, this is beyond my control now!”  
  
“Push this back a month, even a year!  Please don’t do this, this isn’t what I want!” Niall shouts, eyes welling up.  
  
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last three years!?” his father shouts back, and Niall backs away, frightened.  
  
“Your betrothal to her was binding the day you turned sixteen.  You were to marry a few days after, but I pleaded and pleaded with Katarina’s father all these years to hold it off.  I told him you were both too young, that this would bring nothing but regret despite his protests.  What he does not know was that I halted it for my own selfish reasons, especially after your brother so willingly left without a goodbye.”  
  
His father stands up from his chair, using it to support himself.  He makes it clear to Niall he doesn’t want this marriage to happen either, if the way he can hardly look at Niall is any indication.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Niall shakily asks.  “Why have you kept this from me for so long?”  
  
“Your mother’s passing took a part of my soul,” he answers quietly.  “And since your brother’s marriage, you’re all I have left.  But I can’t keep you here forever, and I can’t keep holding this engagement off any longer.  That is my final word, my son.  I’m sorry, I truly am.”  
  
Niall breathes heavily, barely containing his anger.  His father excuses him and Niall runs to his room, screaming from rage and heartache.  The books in his room go flying into the walls, papers torn apart and bloodied with his bare hands, his body sinking into the warm concrete floor with no end to his tears.  
  
—  
  
Two hours later, Niall is dressed in his cloak again, his face showing no signs of having ever cried.  He approaches the tents of the tournament on the field, making his way towards the guards.  Niall tips his head up and they bow before him, then step aside to announce his presence.  Every soldier stands to attention when they see him and bow, then are put at ease when Niall raises his hand.  
  
“Captain Tomlinson,” Niall says out loud, approaching the young man in his brown leather uniform.  He’s one of the youngest in the king’s guard, having quickly risen in the ranks as a skilled tactician and combatant on the battlefield.  To lose him would weaken the defense of the kingdom, and Niall’s father holds him in high regard for the security of his people.  
  
“Your Highness,” the captain bows his head, “how may I be of service?”  
  
“If I could have a word with you in private.”  Captain Tomlinson nods, dismissing a guard from a post near his desk.  “Captain,” Niall whispers as soon as it’s safe, “there are two men that wish to fight today, adoptive brothers by the names of Liam and Harry.  I want you to keep an eye on them, make sure they win the favor of the crowd.”  
  
The captain opens his mouth, apprehensive to speak.  “Sir, with respect, I do not condone cheating, but–”  
  
“Do not twist my words,” Niall sternly tells him.  “Their skills with a sword are unmatched, the best I’ve seen.  They are excellent fighters and I trust you will consider them as soldiers in the guard.”  
  
“I’ll do my utmost.”  
  
Niall turns his heel, walking past the soldiers that bow as he leaves the tent.  The fanfare of the tournament echoes through the open field, met with the roar of the crowd watching in the stands.  Niall looks to the tent opposite of the guards, spotting the back of Harry’s head almost immediately, and runs back to the castle when his tears start again.  
  
—  
  
Nightfall comes quicker than expected and Niall rides as fast as he can with Theia to the farm.  When Niall brings her to a stop, Harry comes rushing out of the barn, yelling Niall’s name as he gets closer.  
  
“Liam and I won!” he exclaims, hugging Niall as soon as he jumps off of Theia.  “I can’t believe it, for the first time in tournament history there were two winners!”  
  
“Harry, I’m so proud of you!  All those hours of practice finally put to good use.”  
  
“I was looking for you as soon as it was over, but Liam insisted we leave immediately to tell his mum the good news.”  
  
“You would have lost me in the crowd.”  
  
Niall fakes a smile, his insides twisting from what sounds like a lie.  He watched the entire tournament from the confines of his bedroom, high above the arena, the last place Harry would think to look.  
  
“Come inside, it’s getting cold,” Harry takes Niall by the hand, leading the way to the barn.  “You should have seen the look on Captain Tomlinson’s face when Liam and I were teamed together, we singlehandedly beat every one of his soldiers, and he stood there absolutely speechless!”  
  
Niall can’t help but laugh, proud that his slight persuasion with the captain worked in his favor.  Harry leans back against the wooden walls, eyes closed with the look of contentment all over his face.  Niall wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders to bring him closer, breathing in his earthly scent.  
  
“I have to go away for a while,” Niall whispers, eyes closed.  
  
“For how long?”  
  
“I-I don’t know.  It’ll be some time before we see each other again.”  
  
He could tell Harry he’ll be gone for days.  Weeks.   _Years_.  But he won’t say any more than he already has, because he can’t lie to Harry.  Because the truth would hurt more than anything else if he knew Niall’s reason for leaving.  
  
“Perhaps it’ll only be a few days,” Harry assures him, “surely the king can’t keep us apart.”  
  
Niall kisses Harry hard, pushing him back against the wall, savoring each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in years.  Niall’s hands find their way up the sides of Harry’s body and under his shirt, fingers slinking their way up Harry’s back and over his scar.  Harry whispers Niall’s name with his eyes closed, softly moaning as Niall kisses all over his neck and down his chest.  He gently cups Niall’s face with both hands, then furrows his brow, noticing the light shade of red under Niall’s eyes.  
  
“Is something the matter?” Harry worriedly asks, brushing his thumb against the sensitive skin.  
  
“Just tired,” Niall forces a smile and steps away from Harry, quickly walking out of the barn.  “I don’t have much time now, I’m to leave as soon as I get back.”  
  
“Niall, wait!”  
  
Harry puts a hand on Niall’s shoulder to stop him, and slowly turns him around.  “Here, take this,” Harry lifts the collar of his tunic and takes off a long leather cord from underneath, carefully placing it in Niall’s hand.  “So you don't forget about me while you're gone," he smiles sweetly.  
  
A small ornate cross hangs at the end of the cord, and Niall holds it between his fingers, admiring its intricate design.  Small scratches adorn the warm and once silver cross, its sharp edges dulled after years of wear.  Harry lightly puts a hand to his chest where the cross once sat, his smile soft when when he looks at Niall.  
  
“Liam’s mother gave it to me the day she brought me home, said it would protect me every day I wore it.  I’d say it’s done what she’s promised.”  Harry hesitates for a moment, then quickly kisses Niall on the cheek.  “I hope it will protect you, too.”  
  
“I’ll wear it always.”  
  
Niall puts the necklace on, letting the cross settle over his chest.  Harry tugs on the pendant, slowly pulling Niall toward him for another kiss.  Niall wraps his arms around Harry and melts into his touch, threading his fingers through Harry’s long and soft curls, believing this might very well be the last time they’ll ever be this close.  
  
“I have to go now.”  Niall turns his heel, quietly sniffing as he mounts his horse.  “Goodbye, Harry.”  
  
“Come back soon, my prince,” Harry teases, but Niall’s heart beats so hard it shatters, its fragments sinking deep into the earth of Harry’s home.  
  
“I’ll–” Niall looks down, his words sincere, “I’ll always come back to you.”  
  
Theia lightly stamps her feet before Niall clicks his tongue, letting out a sob when he hears Harry shout _I love you!_ in the distance.  
  
—  
  
The cross of Harry’s necklace burns through Niall’s chest when he goes to sleep that night, and all the ones after, feeling heavier than the weight on his shoulders.  He can feel the pendant sink deep into his skin in the most vivid of dreams, its leather cord tightening around his neck, ready to welcome death if it were his only answer.  
  
—  
  
Days later, the courtyard of the castle is lit from every corner, red ribbons as decorations hanging from a canopy.  Niall watches his birthday celebration from his bedroom, dressed in his finest clothes made of white silk and gold embroidery.  The cummerbund around his waist is too ill-fitting, restricting his breathing even as he stands upright.  
  
“Cheer up, Niall, twenty-one isn’t so bad.  The food’s better, as is the wine,” his good friend, Zayn, happily says to him.  
  
Zayn is the only son of Marquis Malik, one of the richest men in the kingdom, and a friend to Niall’s father.  Niall tries not to make it a habit of being envious of his friend’s freedom, especially when Zayn travels to France on his own accord.  He often tells stories of the high-priced women he so prefers, tales that Niall takes no interest in despite Zayn’s enthusiasm.  
  
“It’s hardly that and you know it,” Niall replies, holding the ornate cross of Harry’s necklace settled over his jacket.  “This engagement, I can’t do it.  I’ve never met Katarina once in my life, how am I supposed to love her in a matter of seconds?”  
  
“No one said you were supposed to.  These kinds of marriages,” Zayn waves his hand around, shrugging his shoulders, “love is never an option.  Mistresses give that to you, they’re the ones you want but can’t have.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Niall tells him, exasperated.  
  
“Has the monarchy ever been monogamous?” Zayn asks sarcastically.  
  
“Didn’t seem that way with my mother and father,” Niall looks away, discouraged.  “What if she’s in love with someone else?  What if she’s given her heart to someone who truly loves her, someone that would care for her as I care for Harry?”  
  
“ _Harry?_ ”  Zayn walks up to Niall and crosses his arms, both genuinely surprised and curious.  “Have I met your Harry?”  
  
There’s a light knock on the door as it opens, saving Niall from answering Zayn’s question.  Niall’s father enters with a black wooden box and Zayn bows before him, excusing himself to head back to the festivities.  
  
“I’ve brought this for you,” his father smiles, placing the box at the foot of Niall’s bed.  “We’ll be meeting in the Grand Hall soon.  Katarina will be waiting for you there.”  
  
“Yes, Father,” Niall says under his breath, and the king forces a smile as he’s leaving.  
  
Niall walks to his bed and picks up the wooden box, carefully opening its lid.  The gold crown adorned with crosses, fleur-de-lis, and jewels shine from the light of the room; the immaculate emeralds placed throughout remind Niall of Harry’s eyes, and the red rubies akin to the colour of his lips.  
  
Niall takes his crown from its box, looking into the mirror across the room.  Taking a deep breath, he carefully lifts his hands and closes his eyes, holding back his tears as he reluctantly places the crown over his head.  
  
—  
  
_Welcome, welcome to all who have come!  Tonight is a special occasion for the kingdom!_  
  
Niall’s father makes his announcements as Niall stands beside his future bride, hands clenching into fists from nerves.  All he knows of Katarina is that she’s two years his senior, and he finds her as beautiful as the world itself, perhaps the sole reason it was even created.  Her golden skin glows in her blue dress adorned with the finest pearls, her long brown curls that lie above her shoulders reminiscent of Harry’s own, and the red stain of her lips as flush as her cheeks.  
  
Katarina turns to Niall then quickly looks away, the expression of sadness written all over her delicate features.  If Niall were to know her his whole life, he might have fallen in love with her, the kind of love that blossoms through time.  But in the two minutes he’s seen her, he can already tell she’s just as heartbroken as he is, if not worse.  
  
“I am sorry my father has done this, Your Highness.  I’m sorry if I have taken you away from anyone.”  
  
“Forgive me if I have done so to you,” Niall replies, somewhat relieved when she nods.  She bites her lip and shakes her head, lightly sniffling when she pats her blue silk handkerchief to her eyes.  
  
“I must remind myself this is for the kingdom.  For our fathers.”  
  
“It shouldn’t be this way,” Niall contests, “binding or not, we both know this is wrong.”  
  
“My father will not be swayed by our opinions, Prince James.  He knows nothing of love, only words written on paper to be signed over like one of his trade wives he so willingly discards.”  
  
“We will find a way to persuade him, I promise.”  
  
“It’s no use,” her lip trembles, “even Mathias, in all his courage, could not do the same.”  
  
“Mathias?”  
  
“Oh!” Katarina gasps, horrified.  “I shouldn’t have said that, what you must think of me!”  
  
A servant approaches the two and escorts them towards the balcony, standing behind a pair of sheer curtains that separate them from their fathers.  
  
_I am pleased to announce that my son, Prince James, and The Lady Katarina Maxime, are to be married!  Please, let us all celebrate this moment with joy and happiness!_  
  
The guests begin to applaud and Katarina takes Niall’s hand, both of them taking a deep breath before the curtains open, and emerge with the widest of smiles.  They bow before their fathers and walk towards the edge, looking across the Grand Hall at no one in particular.  A flower lands on the railing from the floor above, surprised to find the castle’s servants showering the guests with white and red rose petals.  
  
The betrothed couple continue their forced smiles, waving at all who cheer when a familiar voice fills the room.  
  
_Niall?_  
  
He finds Harry almost immediately, staring at each other in surprise as the last of the petals fall between them.  The castle is the last place Niall would think to see Harry, and there he is, standing so beautifully in the middle of the Grand Hall wearing his finest clothes made of dark red silk.  Niall can’t help but stare in awe, his heart ready to leap out of his chest at any moment.  
  
Spellbound, Niall raises a hand to reach out for Harry, as if it would immediately bind them together, but Harry slowly walks backwards, his shock turning into anger when he walks away.  Niall shouts Harry’s name and he takes off his bejeweled crown, running down the stairs and ignoring the protests of his father.  
  
Niall uses all of his strength, fighting his way through the crowd to find Harry.  He can hear Harry’s footsteps through the halls and chases after the sound, leading all the way to the endless stairs that line the front of the castle.  Harry is too far ahead, but Niall runs as fast as he can, reaching for his shoulder when he’s close enough.  
  
“Get your hands off of me!”  
  
“Harry, I can explain!  Please, just let me–”  
  
“You told me your name is Niall!” Harry screams out.  “You told me you’re a servant to the king, not a prince engaged to the Duke’s daughter!  How many more lies are you going to tell me, Prince James!?”  
  
“I am not Prince James!” Niall shouts, shaking Harry by the shoulders.  “My name is Niall James Horan, and I am still the same person you’ve known all along, you have to believe me!”  
  
“I believed you once and you’ve been lying this whole time,” Harry pushes him away, teeth bared.  “Is this why you told me you were going away?  So you could forget about me while I wait a lifetime for you to come back?”  
  
“It’s not true, Harry, I swear!  I did it to protect you!”  
  
“You’ve been waiting to get rid of me so soon after I gave you my heart!”  
  
The words feel like a dagger through Niall’s chest, tears welling up when he chases after Harry again.  Niall grabs Harry by his shoulders and kisses him hard, but Harry fights back, his hand tugging on the leather cord that snaps off of Niall’s neck when Harry pushes him away.  
  
“No,” Niall breathes out, his hand covering the empty space Harry's cross once sat, “please, you don’t understand–”  
  
“I understand perfectly well, _Prince James_ ,” Harry hisses.  He grips the pendant in the palm of his hand, tears escaping the corners of his eyes.  “You’ve sated your lust and I’m no longer of any use to you."  
  
“I still love you!”  
  
“No!  I trusted you and you pretended to love me!”  
  
_Harry, what’s going on!_  
  
They turn to find Liam, Ivan, and Zayn standing beside each other, breathing hard from running down the steps along with Niall’s father and several guests following behind.  The crowd grows in size the longer Niall and Harry stay quiet, their silence broken when Harry begins backing away.  
  
“We’re leaving, Liam.”  
  
“Leaving?  But, the celebration, it hasn’t even–”  
  
“ _Now!_ ” Harry shouts, the sheer volume of his voice frightening everyone.  Liam immediately runs to his brother’s side, giving Niall a surprised look.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re a prince, after all this time!  Were you ever going to tell us?”  
  
“I see no point in that, brother.  He’s shown everyone what he truly is tonight,” Harry says, contemptuous, “a coward.”  
  
Harry grabs Liam by his arm and walks away, taking long strides towards the bridge that leads to the stables.  Niall tries to run after him but Ivan and Zayn catch him in time, their combined strength rendering him motionless.  
  
“Harry!” Niall sobs, “Harry, please, I’m sorry!  I meant you no harm, I swear!”  
  
“Your Highness, there’s nothing you can do!  Let him go!” Ivan pleads with him, but Niall still fights back, screaming for Harry even as his horse gallops into the night.  
  
—  
  
“Who is he!?  How did he manage an invite to tonight’s celebration!?”  
  
Niall’s father frantically paces around his study, his voice echoing through the walls of the room.  Zayn sits in the corner with a distraught Niall, rubbing his back to keep him calm.  
  
“Th-The boy’s name is Harry, Your Majesty,” Ivan answers nervously.  “He and his adoptive brother won the tournament earlier this week, Captain Tomlinson personally invited them to take his place for the night.”  
  
Niall squeezes his eyes shut and dreams of the last night he went to see Harry.  He pictures himself asking Harry to run away with him, to another country or wherever they can call home.  They could go to France and live in the countryside, raise farm animals and grow vegetables to eat, but Niall finds no use in dreams like these if Harry isn’t with him.  
  
“What else of these brothers?  What is Harry’s relationship with my son?”  
  
“They are farm hands, sire, they supply us with food for the horses.  Harry is–” Ivan stops and Niall stares at him, eyes widened in fear of his secret being revealed.  “He is an acquaintance.  I know no more than that.”  
  
“I find I don’t believe you, Ivan,” Niall’s father calmly remarks.  “Zayn?”  
  
Zayn sits up in surprise, looking between Niall and Ivan for guidance.  “I know nothing of this Harry, Your Majesty.  Tonight is the first I’ve seen of him.”  
  
“If I find either of you are deceiving me–”  
  
“They aren’t, Father,” Niall manages to say, hiccuping when he breathes in, “leave them be.”  
  
After a long pause, Niall’s father lets out an exasperated sigh, making all but Niall leave the room.  The door clicks shut and Niall runs to the table nearby, filling an empty glass full of whiskey, drinking it all at once before he sinks to his knees, whispering his apologies to a Harry that no longer loves him.  
  
—  
  
The long, grueling days turn into weeks, and Niall shuns everyone away from him, including his father.  But soon the darkness of his bedroom becomes too much, his depression over Harry leaving his body weak and heavy.  
  
The day he musters up enough strength to get on his feet, he emerges through the castle doors, and walks past a surprised Ivan in the stables as if nothing happened.  He finds Theia in the last stall, her nose nuzzling him when he hugs her.  “It’s been a while, I know.  But I need you now,” he gently whispers in her ear.  She nods her head and Niall takes her out, heading straight for the farm without hesitation.  
  
When he gets there, Liam is outside of the barn, frantically waving his hands around and struggling to keep the barn doors shut before he meets Niall face to face.  
  
“Niall, er—Prince James!  What a surprise,” Liam fakes a laugh, eyes wide.  
  
“I want to see him.”  
  
The doors behind Liam squeak from the breeze of the wind, Niall’s heart jumping when he thinks he sees Harry behind a dirty window.  He keeps his eyes focused on the mirage, steadying his breathing when he tries to speak again.  
  
“Please, Liam, I know he’s here.”  
  
Liam shifts his feet around, looking at Niall with a stern expression.  “Do you really think I’d let you?” he says angrily.  “I don’t know what it is you’ve done to my brother and I will not ask.  But for his sake, you are no longer welcome here.”  
  
“Then lie to me and tell me he’s all right,” his voice cracks.  “Tell me he doesn’t think of me and I’ll never bother you again.”  
  
Liam stares at Niall in disbelief, unsure of how to take in his words.  Niall hasn’t said anything that would give himself away, nothing that would reveal what he and Harry were up to all those times they disappeared into the woods, no matter how many times Liam asked.  But when Liam looks into Niall’s darkened eyes, the heartbreak is evident, and immediately, he understands.  
  
“It’s always at night,” Liam starts, keeping calm.  “Me, mum, dad… we pretend like nothing’s wrong, but I hear him crying when he thinks I’m asleep.  Sometimes he’s so quiet that I forget he’s even next to me when we eat supper.”  
  
Liam’s eyes start to well up, veins reddened when he looks at Niall.  “You don’t know how helpless I feel, knowing I can’t comfort my own brother.  I made a promise to protect him and I can’t keep pretending everything’s all right when I know it’s making things worse.  I can’t let that happen anymore, do you understand?  So whatever it is you want, or what you think you can have from Harry, there’s nothing you can do but to walk away.”  
  
Niall breathes in, nodding his head in defeat.  There was a time when his older brother would have also protected him from harm; but after three years away, Niall can hardly protect himself.  
  
With his final minutes at the farm coming to an end, Niall reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a large red silk ribbon, its length neatly tied to keep from unraveling.  Just looking at it makes him realize how easy it is to remember the look in Harry’s eye before they first kissed, and how difficult it’ll be to accept that this ribbon was the only reminder he’s ever had of his Harry.  
  
“Give this to him.”  
  
He hands the ribbon to a confused Liam and leaves without another word.  
  
—  
  
Hours after his last visit to the farm, Niall helps Ivan tend to the horses in the stables, quietly grooming and feeding them to pass the time.  He grooms Theia last, letting her rest while he brushes her long brown mane, then delicately fixes it into a loose braid.  
  
“You wouldn’t leave me, would you, girl?” he asks her in a saddened voice.  Theia shakes her head, her new braid flying everywhere that makes Niall laugh for the first time in weeks.  “I wouldn’t leave you either.”  
  
“Your Highness, are you busy?”  
  
Niall quickly turns his head, finding Captain Tomlinson at the opening of the stall.  He fixes Theia’s mane before he steps out, quietly walking out of the stable together.  
  
“What can I do for you, Captain?”  
  
“I, um, I wish to hold another tournament,” he says quietly.  “I’ve created another set of challenges that will ensure I have chosen the right men to join the guard.  I do not trust the assumptions of my soldiers.”  
  
Niall looks at him dumbfounded.  “Is my father unable to make a decision for you?”  
  
“He has, but,” the captain puts his head down, thumb brushing over the engraved ‘M’ on the pommel of his sword.  “I’ve included the two victors—the adoptive brothers, Liam and Harry.  Your father told me of your misunderstanding with them, I do not wish any distress upon you should they be in attendance.”  
  
Niall fights back his urge to react, keeping his expression devoid of emotion.  This was no time to show just how weak he’s become, especially to the toughest soldier in the kingdom.  
  
“Do as you please.”  
  
“Thank you, Prince James.”  Niall cringes, tugging on his ear to avoid looking at the hesitant captain.  “I’ll be sure to keep them distanced from you during the tournament.”  
  
“There’s no need.  See to it they arrive here with the best of care.”  
  
“As you wish.”  Captain Tomlinson bows his head, then asks, “How is she?  The Lady Katarina?”  
  
“You know of her?”  
  
“Uh, y-yes, somewhat,” he turns red in the cheeks.  “She is an acquaintance.  I was unable to attend your celebration when the engagement was announced.”  
  
Niall notices the captain’s fearful expression, his sunken shoulders that of a child to be disciplined.  “I have not seen her in days,” Niall carefully replies, “but I am sure all is well.”  
  
“Good,” he laughs shakily, “I am glad to hear it.  I pray Mathias is also in good health.”  
  
“There’s that name again,” Niall looks up in wonderment, “who is this Mathias?”  
  
Captain Tomlinson begins to stammer, looking around for an escape.  “I-I must be going, Your Highness, I’ve many documents to sign for your father.  Thank you for your time, good day.”  
  
The captain walks away as fast as he can from an incredulous Niall, leaving him even more confused than he already was before.  
  
—  
  
Even if Niall was no longer allowed to visit the farm, he could never forget about the white willow and the lake.  It was their hideaway, and it was the only place that didn’t make him feel like he was choking from the confines of four walls.  
  
He arrives around mid-afternoon, hoping for some sort of sign that Harry would show up; but for as long as Niall can wait, it’s obvious this is the last place Harry would ever visit again.  Sometimes he imagines Harry being there with him, lying side by side like they used to when the sun went down, and he can’t help but become overwhelmed with tears, fighting them off whenever he remembers every kiss they shared.  
  
On a different day, just before dusk, Niall feeds Theia a treat before they head back home, lightly petting her nose as she’s finishing up.  As soon as he unties her reins, Theia lightly nods her head at the trunk of the willow to get Niall’s attention.  “Oh, come on, no time for arguing!” Niall whines, but Theia refuses to budge, and continues nodding her head until her owner finally notices the scratches on the tree.  
  
“This wasn’t here before,” he says in amazement.  
  
Niall runs his fingers over the scratches, the deep grooves sending a vibration through his veins.  He imagines Harry using his dagger to dig into the bark, careful of his precision, the wrinkle on his brow determined to get every curve of each letter.  
  
"After all this time," he whispers, breathless at the etchings of ‘ _Harry + Niall_ ’ scraped into the willow.  
  
Niall hears a rustling behind him and looks around, confused when he finds nothing.  He stands to his feet and looks at the engraving one more time, the pad of his thumb tracing only Harry’s name before he and Theia ride through the woods again.  
  
Theia slows down as they’re near the castle, only to gallop even faster when Niall hears another set of hooves thundering from behind.  Curious, he looks over his shoulder and his eyes widen, his heart racing at a familiar silhouette against the deep orange sky.  
  
—  
  
On the day of the second tournament, Niall evades his father, finding a million excuses to hide from everyone, using the many passages of the castle to make his escape.  He eventually makes his way to the library, pulling on an iron candelabra to open a large wooden door acting as a shelf full of dusty old books.  
  
After carefully shutting it, Niall briefly looks through the titles in front of him.  His fingers walk across and to the end of the shelf to grab a black leather bound book, pacing around the room as he reads the legend of Tristan and Iseult.  
  
“How familiar this all sounds,” Niall sadly tells himself, thinking of Harry.  
  
Halfway into the story, Niall hears a pair of voices in the hall, and sets the book back in its place.  He runs to the door and turns the knob as quietly as he can, eyebrows raised when he sees Katarina in the line of his vision.  Niall assumes his father must have invited her, most likely to show them off as a genuine couple to the kingdom on a public day like this.  But he can see Katarina is clearly frustrated, her expression angry and hands animated when she speaks.  
  
_“How dare you speak of Mathias this way!  He is a part of this family much like you and I!”_  
  
_“He is but a burden on us.”_  
  
_“A burden you carry only because of his bloodline!  Why can you not accept him after nearly three years?  There is no shame nor dishonour in his innocence!”_  
  
_“He is a bastard, Katarina.  You bore your shame into this world purely because you could not control your urges.  The respect you once had will be restored when you honour your marriage to the prince, and only then will I be able to call you my daughter again.”_  
  
_“And never again will you remain a father to me.”_  
  
_“You dare to speak—”_  
  
Niall immediately swings the library door wide open and runs out, bringing a stop to their disagreement.  It’s gone on too long, and there’s no way Katarina will leave unscathed if he doesn’t act.  Niall pretends to play coy, approaching them with a smile to throw off their frightened expressions.  
  
“Your Highness!” the Duke says in surprise, bowing his head.  
  
“Forgive me, did I intrude?” Niall asks, concerned.  
  
“Of course not, Prince James!  Do forgive the tone in which my daughter and I speak, it is only in jest.  Is it not, dear Katarina?”  He puts a hand to his daughter’s shoulder, quickly taking it back when she refuses to acknowledge him.  
  
“That will be all, Duke Maxime,” Niall replies blankly.  The Duke tries to speak again, but Niall gives a stern look to silence him.  Embarrassed, he bows his head again, quickly disappearing into the hallways to give them their privacy.  
  
“Are you all right?”  Katarina puts a trembling hand to her mouth, the tears in her eyes quickly streaming down her cheeks.  “I promise, this will remain between us.”  
  
“My father is insufferable,” she quietly sobs.  “He speaks of honour and respect when he clearly has none for himself.  I wish to be rid of him and yet, to live without him, I would surely suffer.”  
  
“He only suffers from his ignorance, that much I can see.”  Niall leads the way, lightly placing a hand on her shoulder.  “Come, I think it will be best if you stayed in the library.  Your father will be far from the castle now and you can watch the tournament from a safe distance.”  
  
“Oh, you boys and your violence,” she sniffs with a soft laugh, wiping her tears away.  “Would it be sinful to imagine my father losing in a duel with one of the king’s guards?”  
  
“If I may speak freely?” Niall asks, guiding her to the velvet couch.  Katarina waits, curious of his opinion.  “The way your father spoke to you, I think he would do well with a slap to the face.  Perhaps an entire harvest’s worth of rotten tomatoes thrown at him from the commoners in the court.”  
  
Katarina laughs a delightful sound, the frustration she carried now lifted from her chest.  She reaches out for Niall’s hand, her delicate fingers placed over his palm.  “Prince James,” she says, looking at him gratefully, “thank you for being so kind.  I will be sure to return it when the time comes.”  
  
“Call me Niall,” he tells her, lightly squeezing her hand.  
  
“A beautiful name,” she smiles.  “Thank you again, Niall.”  
  
—  
  
A dark grey hue settles over the clouds and the air is unusually cold, leaving Niall to wear his black cloak to disguise himself.  He can see a throng of people gathering by the stands of the arena, the soldiers lined up by a large tent practicing their techniques.  Before he leaves the castle, Niall makes sure the servants attend to Katarina’s needs, and weaves his way through the growing crowd in search of Zayn.  
  
The arena is soon packed with commoners and nobility alike, settling into their separated wooden seats as the church bells ring in the distance.  Niall is careful to hide his face with his hood as he’s walking, easily finding Zayn standing next to the guards’ tent, and surprisingly wearing the same identical black cloak.  
  
“With this weather, I am sure a death is upon us,” Zayn remarks nonchalantly.  
  
“Your cheerful attitude does not go overlooked as usual,” Niall replies, sarcastic.  
  
“Oh, come now!  Even the soil reeks of death, I can’t be the only one.”  
  
The fanfare begins, catching their attention.  Niall’s father sits atop the highest balcony with the Duke—the seat beside him for Katarina remains empty—searching among the crowd for his son.  Niall adjusts his hood and turns the opposite way, looking for any semblance of Harry as the Master of Ceremonies makes his introduction.  
  
_Welcome again to another tournament!  What we have on this very day is a feast of strength, skill, and most of all, the loyalty of those that will join Captain Tomlinson and his regiment of the finest soldiers._  
  
“You make no effort hiding your unease,” Zayn jokes, tugging on Niall’s sleeve.  “Tell me, are you looking for your Harry?”  
  
“Why do you bother asking questions that you’ve already answered yourself?”  
  
“I was only curious,” Zayn calmly replies.  “If your father were to find out about you and Harry, what would he do?  I think I fear what he would say.”  
  
“I do not care for my father’s opinion,” Niall says with his head high.  “He can call us what he wishes, but I will not let him anywhere near Harry.  No amount of punishment can undo the harm I’ve already inflicted upon him.”  
  
Zayn sighs softly, placing a hand on Niall’s shoulder in consolation.  “You’re braver than most, Niall.”  
  
The two friends resolve their conversation in silence, walking away from where they stand to find a better view of the arena.  Niall keeps his head down, looking at nothing but the wet soil under his feet until a flash of red silk passes him by, leaving him bewildered when it disappears as soon as he looks up.  
  
_Let the games begin!_  
  
—  
  
The crowd is uproarious, cheering for those who have won their rightful place in the king’s guard.  Captain Tomlinson proudly overlooks the arena, delegating each challenge as he sees fit.  He’s unsurprisingly calm despite the violence, although Niall supposes it’s because no one’s died.  Yet.  
  
Amateurs and recruits are easily defeated by the officers of the guard, the soldiers born and bred to fight to the very last breath.  Niall cranes his neck to look at the line of Davids willing to fight against their Goliaths, easily finding an eager Liam towards the end.  Harry stands right alongside him with his head down, the strands of his long hair hiding his eyes, leaving Niall’s heart racing and unsure of his confidence.  
  
_Our last challenge will be three against two.  For this, Captain Tomlinson calls forward three of his soldiers and the two victors of the last tournament to fight._  
  
The crowd applauds when Liam and Harry walk to the middle of the arena, standing tall and proud, then bow before their opponents before standing to attention at the sound of the captain’s voice.  
  
“Let’s see what your Harry’s made of,” Zayn smirks, nudging Niall in the arm.  
  
_Gentlemen, the rules are as follows: first team to defeat the other is the winner, and it shall be to the last men standing.  Good luck._  
  
Liam and Harry draw their swords at the same time, their hands tightening the grip of their weapons.  They take several steps away from each other, spreading out as the soldiers begin circling around them.  This was no longer the practice fights Niall had witnessed before; this is real, and Zayn’s words are starting to repeat in Niall’s ears, leaving him on the edge of worry: _I am sure a death is upon us._  
  
The first soldier shouts as he lunges forward with his sword, lunging for Harry as he quickly ducks down and elbows him between the shoulders.  Before the soldier can even turn around, Harry hits him over the head with the pommel, immediately knocking him out.  
  
A collective gasp is sent through the crowd, the sudden silence broken when the M.C. cries, _One man down!_ and a pair of soldiers run to the field, carting off the first casualty.  Harry runs towards the second soldier and Liam fights off the third, swords clanging as the crowd cheers them on.  
  
Niall moves away from his spot among the standing crowd, walking as fast as he can with Zayn trailing behind to get a better look.  The crowd roars and Niall stops, standing on his toes to see the action.  For a moment, he can see Harry’s sword against the other soldier’s, both of them struggling to push one off the other until the soldier lifts his arms and hits Harry hard enough in the face, its impact sending him straight to the ground.  
  
The crowd begins to yell at the offense, some shouting that the rules have been broken, but Captain Tomlinson waves his hand, indicating the fight will continue.  
  
“Harry!  Get up, come on!” Liam shouts, grabbing his brother by the arm.  
  
“I’ve got it!” Harry pushes Liam away, wiping off the streak of blood from his lip, “I can take care of him!”  
  
Suddenly, Niall’s being pulled off to the side, struggling to find his feet while Zayn drags him to an open space.  They snake their way through and Niall catches glimpses of Harry and Liam fighting, their combined strength as powerful as the soldiers in front of them.  Captain Tomlinson taunts both teams, riling them up to fight even harder, and the crowd chants in time for their winners.  
  
Before Niall and Zayn find their new spot, the M.C. cries out, _Two men down!_ and Niall is disappointed he’s missed the fight, watching as the second soldier is carried off the field.  Liam and Harry face off against the last soldier, his teeth bared and ugly, and his short stature seemingly no threat to either of his opponents.  
  
All three men circle around each other with their swords drawn, the look of determination knitted through each wrinkle between their brows.  Niall clenches his fists, palms and forehead sweating from anticipation.  
  
“Come on, you little bastards!” the soldier spits out, swinging his sword left and right.  
  
“Are you going to fight or are you going to keep wasting our time!?” Captain Tomlinson taunts again.  
  
The soldier finally makes his move, running towards Liam, who deflects his hits in but a single second.  Harry gets the most cheers when he punches the soldier in the stomach, followed by a hit on the chin from Liam.  The soldier stumbles backward but immediately charges at Harry, tackling him to the wet, muddy ground.  
  
Liam lets out the loudest of war cries and jumps on the soldier’s back, arms hooked around his neck to get him to stand upright.  The soldier manages to push Liam off, only to be taken by surprise when Harry kicks him between the legs, the crowd forming a collective groan as he falls to his knees, eyes shut from the ensuing pain in his groin.  
  
_Last men standing, Liam and Harry!  Victors once more!_  
  
Niall cheers the loudest for Harry, drowning the sound of everyone around him.  Captain Tomlinson approaches them from the stands, shaking their hands in approval.  Niall can see the look of elation on Liam’s face, but Harry—his victorious Harry—is forcing himself to smile, sensing he did not want to fight at all.  
  
The two then walk to the middle of the arena, bowing to the crowd in thanks.  The defeated soldier rises to his feet and shouts at Harry, walking towards him in a fury with his sword drawn.  The brothers quickly spread apart, hoping to avoid the confrontation.  
  
“I will not fight you,” Harry tells him, backing away from the tip of the sword in front of him.  
  
“I refuse to let a farm peasant like you embarrass me in front of the kingdom!  I am a soldier of the king’s guard and I will not be dishonoured!”  
  
“The tournament is over!  There is no need for this!”  
  
“Draw your sword,” he growls.  “Do it!  I will not leave until I have been given a fair fight!”  
  
“Do as he says, Harry,” Liam tells him, but Harry shakes his head, walking away in defiance.  “Harry!” Liam shouts, then tries again to no avail, and chases after his brother.  
  
Harry grabs Liam’s arm and they walk even faster, almost near to where Niall and Zayn are watching in the stands.  Niall steps behind a man taller than himself, hoping Harry won’t see him when he passes.  
  
“Coward!” the soldier screams.  “I demand you stop and fight me!”  
  
“I forfeit your duel, I will not face you!” Harry shouts over his shoulder.  
  
_Drop your sword, soldier!_ Captain Tomlinson’s voice echoes through the arena.   _There shall be no more challenges for you to appease your disgraceful loss!_  
  
The soldier does as he’s told, and Niall is seemingly relieved, letting out the breath he’d been holding.  He turns away only for a quick second, and suddenly the soldier is several steps behind Harry, his hand reaching around his waist to brandish a dagger.  Thinking fast, Niall shouts to get the captain’s attention and fights through the crowd, pushing everyone away as hard as he can to get to the field.  
  
“Harry!  Harry, behind you!”  
  
The soldier lunges his hand forward and Niall pushes Harry out of the way at the right second, gasping when he feels the dagger pierce through his abdomen.  Everything goes into a standstill and all feeling that’s left is the blade inside of him, breathless as the wound tears his flesh open.  The sharp blade quickly slides out of him, his heart pounding so rapidly it would burst at any moment.  The soldier backs away in horror, his eyes as wide as Niall’s when he sees the colour of bright red spilling onto his hands.  
  
_Seize him!_ Captain Tomlinson shouts from his post.   _He has attacked the prince!_  
  
“Niall!” Harry gets up as fast as he can, running to him as Liam knocks out the stunned soldier with a hard punch to the face.  
  
Several guards drag the unconscious soldier away while the others hold the crowd back, leaving only Harry and Niall in the middle of the arena, and Liam watching from afar.  Niall’s father fights his way to the muddied field, shouting Niall’s name, but still too far to reach his son.  And just as Harry reaches him, he wraps his arms around Niall to keep him from falling, slowly lowering him to the ground.  
  
“H-Harry,” Niall chokes, his breath slowing down.  “Harry, I’m so sorry, for everything.”  
  
“No, don’t say your apologies, don’t you dare,” Harry panics, his expression both angry and frightened.  “It’s only a scratch,” his voice shakes in fear, “just like the one on my back, you won’t feel a thing, it won’t hurt you.”  
  
“You’re all I can feel,” Niall forces a strained smile, hands pressing hard into his stomach.  Harry cradles Niall in his arms, their faces as close as it's ever been since they’ve been apart.  Harry begins to cry and Niall fights back his own tears, the blood he’s lost making him feel as if he’s floating out of his own body.  
  
“This isn’t how I planned on winning you back,” Niall barely whispers.  
  
“Don’t do this,” Harry sniffles, “you can’t say these things, not now.”  
  
Harry’s face begins to blur, and Niall’s mind plays the memories of their time spent together.  His heart beat slows down when he remembers the night they were together, how warm he felt lying in Harry’s arms the morning after, and the last kiss they shared before it all fell apart.  
  
Harry puts his hand on the nape of Niall’s neck, repeating his name to keep him focused, and Niall’s eyes widen when he notices a red strip of silk wrapped around Harry’s wrist.  Niall begins breathing rapidly, unable to control his stammers when he tries to speak, though Harry manages to understand him completely.  
  
“It’s–” Harry bites his lips to stop them from quivering, “it’s all I have of you.”  
  
Niall finally lets out a sob and Harry holds him even tighter, the hot sting of his tears falling as they did the night Harry left him.  He reaches his bloodied hand towards Harry’s face as it begins to fade, the tips of his fingers brushing against the skin he hasn’t felt in so long, and the smear of red along Harry’s cheek is all but a memory.  
  
Harry’s voice echoes around Niall, the helpless pleas for him to stay awake turning into nothing but whispers.  Niall flutters his eyes, struggles to keep them open, but soon the last of his strength is gone, and gently, he rests his head on Harry’s shoulder.  
  
_No!  Niall, wake up!  Wake up!  Please, you have to stay awake!_  
  
—  
  
The sound of birds chirping awakens Niall, suddenly hearing a pair of hushed voices that he thinks he might be imagining.  He weakly opens an eye, the light from the windows a bright white and the shadows a near pitch black.  The only wash of colour comes from the ceiling, recognizing the unmistakable faded blue ceilings of the monastery, and the dark brown cloaks of two figures that pace around the room.  
  
“Your Majesty, I think your son is awake,” one of them quietly points out.  
  
A pair of footsteps make their way to Niall, a warm hand softly touching his forehead.  “Son, how are you feeling?”  Niall softly grunts at the sound of his father’s voice, his body feeling too heavy to make any sudden movements.  “Get your rest, I’ll be right here if you need me.”  
  
And in an instant, Niall falls back asleep.  
  
It’s mid-day when he awakens again, vision clear with his hands and feet twitching as he tries to move around.  He looks around the room for his father, only finding his cloak that hangs over a chair nearby.  Niall angles his body to sit up and winces, the hard frame of the bed increasing the dull ache on the left side of his abdomen.  He lifts his shirt to find a tight cotton dressing wrapped around him spotted with blood, letting out a hiss when he presses too hard over his wound.  
  
“Your Highness!” a soft voice enters the room.  Two monks shuffle inside, one with light brown hair and the other stark black, both slightly older than Niall.  They bow their heads and introduce themselves as Damian and Christopher, helping Niall clean and change his dressing.  
  
“You mustn’t disturb your wound,” says Christopher, wrapping the new cloth around Niall’s abdomen, “it will hinder my needlework and delay your healing.”  
  
“How long have I been here?  Where is my father?”  
  
“Just a day and a half,” Damian answers.  “Your father’s been resting in the next room for the last hour.”  
  
Niall slumps his shoulders, holding his head in his hands.  “I can’t believe I’m here, I was so sure I died,” he says, astonished.  “Am I dreaming?”  
  
Christopher laughs nervously, helping Niall rest his back against the stone wall.  “You lost a significant amount of blood after your accident.  Damian and myself treated you as soon as you arrived.”  
  
“How bad is it?  My wound, I mean.”  
  
The two monks look at each other, their expressions full of worry.  “Quite bad,” Damian answers reluctantly.  “And it will take some time to heal.  Your Highness, if your wound had been just a fraction higher… we are sure you would not be here speaking to us.”  
  
Niall presses the heels of his palms to his eyes.  “I fear I am already a ghost.”  
  
—  
  
Damian and Christopher tend to Niall for the next few days, and his father offering to help when he can.  Zayn arrives in the mornings, usually for an hour to talk, which Niall appreciates.  He asks Zayn about his adventures in France—he’s called off his high-priced women, now that a widow by the name of Helene has set her sights on him—rather than the boring kingly duties his father unknowingly rambles about to pass the time.  
  
The church bells ring a harmonious melody every night at six o’clock, just as the sun sets across the horizon.  Christopher brings in a bouquet of flowers in that time, adding them to a small ceramic vase sitting on the window sill.  The flowers are small at the beginning of the week, and eventually grow larger as the days pass.  
  
When Niall is strong enough to get out of bed himself, he stands next to the window where the flowers sit, admiring their colours of purple, red, and white.  “These look oddly familiar,” he suspects, plucking off one of the petals.  
  
Just as the bells begin their song, a man in a grey cloak walks alongside his chestnut horse into the courtyard holding a small bunch of flowers, the same ones that sit in the vase.  Niall watches in curiosity when Christopher walks up to the cloaked man, taking the flowers handed to him.  The unknown figure looks up towards the window only briefly, and walks away before Niall can even get a glimpse of him.  
  
Christopher comes back into the room moments later, surprised to see Niall standing on his own.  He bows his head, then holds up the bouquet, asking, “May I?”  
  
Niall nods and steps aside.  “Christopher, who brings you these flowers?”  
  
“Oh, they’re not for me, they’re for you,” Christopher smiles, and Niall stares at him in utter shock.  “There’s a man that visits at the same time every night and he asks me to give these to you.  Forgive me for not telling you sooner, but your father insisted I wait until you were better.”  
  
“For me?  What does he look like?  Does he say anything to you?”  
  
Christopher shakes his head, lips thinned while he’s organizing the fresh flowers.  “Always keeps his hood up and wears a cloth to cover half his face.  He only ever says the same sentence, ‘ _Please give these to the prince_ ,’ and nothing else.”  
  
Niall turns away and puts the back of his hand to his mouth. _It has to be Harry_ , he thinks, because no one else would have known about the wildflowers in the woods.  No one would have known the way the white flowers surrounded Harry like a halo, the way the purple petals laden through his hair brightened his green eyes, and how the red pollen marked their skin with the sweetest of perfumes, entrancing them before they shared their first kiss.  
  
No one could ever know that.  No one but Harry.  
  
—  
  
Niall is genuinely surprised when Katarina pays him a visit the next day, sporting the happiest of smiles that leaves him just as delighted.  Katarina asks the monks for a private room in which they can speak, and together they’re escorted to the Abbot’s office, a large room full of windows and a long desk with papers and books strewn about.  
  
“Niall, I am so pleased to know that you’re okay,” she smiles, almost tearing up.  “I was so frightened when I saw what happened, but you were so brave helping that young man.  No one else could have done what you did.”  
  
Niall tips his head up, thinning his lips into a smile.  Katarina waits for him to speak, but he simply nods his head, unwilling to say anything else.  
  
“The reason I’m here is because I’ve come to bring you good news!”  
  
“Oh?” Niall raises a brow in interest.  
  
“Yes, your father insisted I should be the one to tell you.”  
  
Niall takes a seat and Katarina tells him about the night of his accident, how she and her father raced home as quickly as possible in the ensuing chaos.  The Duke began drinking endless amounts of wine, and began wrecking the shelves of his study, tearing apart every single piece of paper he could find.  After falling asleep from his drunken fit, Katarina found what her father had been looking for, the written agreement of their engagement torn to pieces.  
  
“What!?  Katarina, you’re absolutely sure of this?”  
  
She digs into a flap of her large skirt, pulling out ripped pieces of paper held together by a small rope, then tosses it onto the desk in front of Niall with a grin.  He unties it within seconds, looking through yellowed and torn documents full of handwritten declarations, making a mess on the desk as Katarina laughs in delight.  
  
“If this means what I think it does, then–”  
  
“Our engagement is no longer binding!” she exclaims, finishing his sentence.  “As soon as I found these papers, I showed them to your father without haste and he told me he would take care of everything.  Oh, I hadn’t experienced a wonderful day in such a long time until our fathers agreed to null our betrothal!”  
  
“I can’t believe it, this is all so much at once!” Niall laughs, astonished.  
  
In his excitement, Niall wraps his arms around her in an embrace, and spins her around with her laughter filling the room.  As soon as he sets her down, she puts a hand to his cheek, her eyes glassy when she looks up.  
  
“Niall, I–” Katarina whispers, “I don’t want you to think you’re unworthy because of this.  Yes, I’m in love with another man, but I don’t mean to hurt you–”  
  
“I think we both know we belong with other people,” Niall interrupts with a smile.  He holds out his hand for her to take, and he tightens his grip when her smile falters.  “You are beautiful, Katarina, and so generous with the kindness you show.  But you wouldn’t want someone like me, someone who doesn’t know how to be a prince, let alone a good enough suitor.  You deserve better than what I can give you, and I am sure the person you love is twice the man I could ever be.”  
  
“It’s a shame, I would have shown you the world,” Katarina says in a sultry voice, and they laugh loud enough for their voices to echo through the wooden door.  “Do you think, if we’d known each other before any of this happened, we’d be in love?”  
  
“I think so,” Niall rubs his thumb across the back of her hand, “any man who doesn’t fall in love with you would be a fool.”  
  
“You are no fool, dearest Niall.  But there is someone you love, is there not?” she asks gently, but Niall puts his head down, unable to answer.  Katarina puts her free hand under his chin, giving him a loving expression reminiscent of his mother’s.  It pains him to know how much he misses her.  “You have so much love to give, and I know that whoever receives it will love you just the same, perhaps even more.”  
  
Niall leans in close, wrapping his arms around her for another embrace.  She lays a soft kiss to his temple and he shuts his eyes, remembering the last time his mother had done the same.  It had been a while since he’s felt this kind of comfort, the kind that’ll tell him everything will be fine and nothing could hurt him.  
  
“Niall, I think it’s time I told you something,” Katarina says when they pull away.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“The man I wish to marry,” she starts, slightly nervous, “I know you have been acquainted for some time.  I’ve known him my entire life and as we grew older, we fell in love, and he vowed to make me his wife even when he found out about our betrothal.  He holds no ill will towards you, because he knew that if we married, you could protect me from my father’s poisonous words.  You were there when my father shamed me in the castle, but it’s far worse at home where he constantly berates me for bearing a child of the man I deeply care for.”  
  
Niall’s eyes widen and his jaw drops open.  “ _You have a child?_  How long ago did this happen?”  
  
“A little over three years ago.  I named him after my grandfather, Mathias,” Katarina sniffs, patting her eyes with a white handkerchief.  “My father has forced me to keep him a secret, but I refuse to do so any longer.  My son has brought me nothing but joy, and every time I look at him, I see so much of his father that I can't imagine a day without his love.”  
  
“ _Mathias!_ ” Niall exclaims.  “He’s the one you mentioned the night of my birthday!”  He begins to laugh in delight, then holds a hand to his forehead, remembering a certain moment in the stables not too long ago.  There’s a flash of a thumb over the pommel of a sword, the man holding onto it letting on more than Niall should have known.  
  
“It’s Captain Tomlinson, isn’t it?  He’s the father of your child,” Niall says in awe.  “I-I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner!  I’d looked at his sword and thought how strange it was that the letter ‘M’ had been engraved on it, a-and the way he asked about Mathias!  Oh, I should have known.”  
  
“Louis said that Mathias gave him strength, even in the worst of battles,” Katarina proudly admits.  “Our son is the reason he’s been fighting for the kingdom, to prove himself worthy enough to be a husband and a father, but I’ve known it all along.”  
  
Niall can’t help but look at Katarina in awe, realizing just how much respect he has for the captain, and holds him in even higher regard after hearing his story.  
  
“At your father’s insistence, he’s granted Louis a leave of absence so we can–” Katarina begins to choke up, and Niall reaches for her hand to keep her calm.  
  
“You’ll finally be a family,” he finishes for her with a smile.  
  
“It’s all I’ve wanted, and you’ll have yours too, I promise.”  
  
“Should I ever have a daughter, I’ll name her after you,” Niall tells her sincerely, and she laughs, lightly hitting his arm in jest.  
  
“My second son shall have yours, and he’ll be just as kind and noble as you’ve been to me.”  
  
Niall can’t help but smile.  Just as they’re about to leave, there’s a light knock on the door, pushed open by a small boy with light brown hair.  
  
“Go on, ask if you can see her,” says a quiet voice when the boy looks up.  Niall smiles even wider when he sees Captain Tomlinson, who bows his head with a sharp toothed grin.  
  
“Mama, can I?” he asks, and Katarina opens her arms, letting him run to her.  She easily lifts him and settles him on her hip, placing a kiss on his cheek right after.  
  
“Niall, I’d like you to meet Mathias,” she says proudly, “say hello to mummy’s friend, darling.”  Mathias giggles and waves excitedly at Niall, his smile a mirror image of his mother.  Captain Tomlinson steps inside, and is taken aback when Niall pulls him in for a hug.  Before he lets go, Niall looks over the captain’s shoulder, realizing he’s never seen anyone as happy as Katarina.  
  
—  
  
Niall sits in the courtyard of the monastery, quietly observing the monks tending to a rose bush nearby.  He watches them carefully cutting their stems and thorns, some of them plucking off their coloured petals, and other simply breathing in their sweet floral scent.  Niall is distracted when his father clears his throat, standing to attention.  
  
“All is well with Katarina?” his father asks.  
  
“And more,” Niall smiles.  “You know, I never imagined the captain to be quite the romantic, even after all the battles he’s fought.”  
  
“A hero he may be to the kingdom, but he is also most certainly an enigma.”  
  
Niall heads back to his room several minutes later, and his father stands beside him at the window, admiring the late afternoon sun.  No words are exchanged in the time they spend in silence, the uncomfortable tension between them growing by the second.  
  
“This Harry,” Niall’s father speaks up.  “What is it you have with him?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Niall asks, frightened.  
  
“I’m asking what made Harry so special to you.”  
  
Niall looks away, his heart racing at speeds he’s never known.  He won’t lie, but he can’t bear the thought of his father being ashamed of him, let alone bear the guilt of keeping this to himself for eternity.  
  
“I found a friend in him,” Niall begins.  “He’s unlike anyone I’ve known, his kindness and humility was incomparable to the people I’ve met.  Harry made me laugh and told me stories that I could never come up with.  He made me feel like I was more than just a prince,” Niall takes a breather, his father rubbing his back in consolation.  
  
“I suppose it sounds strange, but when I was with him, nothing could go wrong, and I felt so safe.  But I kept certain things to myself and I’ve lost him, Father.  Harry meant everything to me, and for a little while, I meant something to him, too.”  
  
“Oh, son,” his father says, and hugs Niall to his surprise.  “You remind me so much of your mother, the way you love people.  She had a charm about her that made others love her too, and it’s hard for me not to see she’s passed it onto you.”  
  
Niall smiles sadly, glancing at the wilting flowers nearby.  “If she were alive, would she think less of me?  That I care for Harry the way I do?”  
  
“Never.  She wouldn’t dare to love you any less and neither would I,” his father nearly chokes up.  “No matter who you decide is important enough to be in your life, you are still my son, and no one can take that from me.”  
  
Niall hugs his father tight, tears streaming down his face as he cries in relief.  
  
—  
  
Damian and Christopher check on Niall’s wound the next morning, cleaning and redressing the area as needed.  Ten minutes before church bells ring, the two excuse themselves to attend mass, hurriedly scuttling along with the other monks making their way down the stairwell of the tower.  Niall watches them filing into the church from the window, a long line of dark brown cloaks with their hoods up, and hands held in prayer.  
  
At exactly eight o’clock, a monk in the bell tower pulls on a large rope, signaling the start of mass.  Niall hasn’t had much use for prayer since his mother died, but he thinks about her in that moment, hoping she can at least see that he’s doing okay.  
  
Once the bells finish ringing, Niall’s eyes begin to droop, and he heads to his bed to lie down for a while before Zayn pays him his daily visit.  His back is faced to the door when he wakes, hearing a pair of hushed voices and someone shuffling near the window.  
  
Niall lets out a yawn, stretching his arms and legs right after.  “How lovely of you to drop by, Zayn, I see you’ve arrived past our usual time again.”  
  
He waits for a response, only to be met with silence.  
  
“When did you start playing the silent type–”  
  
Niall freezes when he turns over, holding his breath in surprise.  
  
“ _Harry?_ ”  
  
The hood of his cloak falls from his head, but he stays still, unsure of saying anything.  Niall sits up and rubs his eyes, wondering if he’s dreaming, or if there was something in the medicinal herbs Damian had asked him to drink with his breakfast.  He can see a glimpse of Zayn near the open doorway, holding a finger to his lips with a smirk, and leaves before Niall can even call for him.  
  
“Wh-What are you doing here?” Niall asks, finally breathing out.  
  
“I–” Harry’s throat closes up, looking as though he might faint.  “I’m only here because you saved my life.  Nothing more.  Goodbye.”  
  
Harry drops the flowers and rushes to the door.  Niall scrambles out of bed and stumbles to the floor, letting out a cry when he leans into his wound.  “Harry, wait!” he almost shouts, hand pressing into the ache of his abdomen.  
  
“Please, don’t go again.”  
  
Niall keeps his head down as the pain subsides, then feels Harry’s warm hand on his elbow to help him back onto the bed.  Harry sits beside him after, but keeps his distance.  They remain silent, the only sounds between them are their breaths and the hum of the monks singing in the church.  Niall rubs at the dressing under his shirt and suddenly Harry’s hand is above his, the soft touch of his thumb brushing along the curve of Niall’s wrist.  
  
“Ivan, he brought you here,” Harry starts, his voice soft.  “I followed him all the way to the doors until the monks took you inside.  Your father asked me to stay, he said he wanted you to see a familiar face when you woke up, but I felt so guilty that couldn’t bring myself to do it.  I keep blaming myself for what happened, that I should have paid attention, I should have accepted his fight and none of this–”  
  
“It’s not your fault,” Niall holds Harry’s hand to his heart, hoping its rhythm will calm him down.  
  
Harry points to the mess on the floor with his free hand, weakly smiling when he looks at Niall.  “I brought the flowers every day, so you knew I was here.  It was the one thing I hoped you remembered the days we were together.”  
  
“I could never forget something like that,” Niall says in a hopeful tone.  “And you were always with me,” he presses Harry’s hand even harder over his chest, “you never went anywhere.”  
  
“No, don’t do this,” Harry takes his hand back, “not again.”  
  
“I thought about you every day we were apart,” Niall presses on, “all the times we would go to the woods, when we would just lie under the willow like time didn’t exist.  I know it was you who wrote our names into the tree, and I know you were the one following me when I left.”  
  
“Enough, I won’t hear any more,” Harry quickly stands up from the bed.  “I have to leave, I have to go back home.”  
  
“Don’t, I’m asking you to stay–”  
  
“Then why did you lie to me?  Did you really think I would have treated you differently if I’d known all along?”  
  
Niall’s taken aback by the tone of Harry’s voice, stern and commanding.  He waits for Harry to face him, but he refuses to move, and Niall tells him everything.  
  
“I don’t know why I kept any of this from you.  I’ve spent most of my life hiding who I really am, all because being an heir to the throne means nothing to me, and I refuse to be bound to a life where the only thing people know about me is how much I’m worth.  None of this mattered once we became friends, and I didn’t think it would mean anything when we became more than that.”  
  
Harry finally turns around, looking at Niall in disbelief.  “Why didn’t you tell me that from the beginning?  If you honestly believed I cared about your wealth or your power, then you never knew me at all!  What’s its use to me when all I wanted was you?”  
  
“Would you you still want me, even after all of this?”  
  
Harry’s body tenses, his hands clenched to his sides for protection.  “The night we were together,” he says instead, “I need to know and I’ll never ask you again.”  
  
Niall’s heart pounds through chasm of his wound waiting for his question.  
  
“Were you the one holding me or was it Prince James?”  
  
“It was me,” Niall breathlessly answers, his heart pounding even harder.  “I swear, it was always me.”  
  
Harry runs to Niall and kisses him when he’s on his feet, both of them lost in the rush of emotion that takes over their inability to keep their hands off of each other.  Niall sighs at the feeling of Harry’s lips on the corners of his mouth and along his jaw, the whispers of _I still love you_ in Niall’s ear leaving him to kiss Harry even harder.  
  
“Don’t leave me again, promise you won’t,” Niall pleads, looking into Harry’s eyes.  
  
“What about your engagement?  We can’t be together if you’re to marry someone else.”  
  
“It’s over.”  Harry looks at him in surprise, backing away when he tries to speak.  “The Duke called it off the day of the tournament and my father took care of everything.  Katarina will be married to the person she truly loves and to a man I respect, and I – I get to be me again.  The only person you’ve always known.”  
  
Harry remains stunned, then comes to his senses when Niall kisses him on the cheek.  
  
“It’s okay now, I promise everything will be fine,” Niall tells him, and he can see the light in Harry’s eyes coming back.  
  
“I’m sorry I said all those things to you the night of your birthday,” Harry confesses.  “I was so heartbroken and betrayed that I wanted you to feel the same.  I kept wishing I could take back everything we did and that we’d never met, but I couldn’t let go.”  
  
“I deserved those words, I know that much,” Niall tells him, but Harry shakes his head, whispering his disagreement.  “I never pretended to love you.  I meant every word I said, and I still do.”  
  
“Liam told me you wanted to know if I didn’t think about you,” Harry recalls Niall’s exact words.  “I didn’t have to say anything for him to know how much I wanted to see you again, even when I knew you were no longer mine.  And I hated how much I still loved you, no matter how many times I told myself you were only pretending and that you never cared.  But I knew you did, because I couldn’t keep lying to myself when Liam gave me your red ribbon.  
  
“So when you ask me if I still want you, even after all of this, my answer is yes.  I’ll always want you, Niall, and I can’t bear to be in this room for one more second if I know you won’t come back to me.”  
  
With one more kiss, their feelings of guilt and heartache were long gone, never to be spoken of again.  The only remaining memory between them now is the sweet perfume of the red wildflowers that brings Niall home, and in Harry’s arms where he belongs.  
  
“I’ll always come back to you, Harry.  Always.”


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, there's an epilogue, my loves. If you've gotten this far, thank you so much for reading! Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://jenkothat.tumblr.com/) if you wish :)

Harry’s old home lies in a decrepit state, its white wooden exterior decaying, covered by layer upon layer of green moss.  The area where Niall and Harry stand is covered in leaves, some dried and brown, and others freshly fallen in the colours of bright red and yellow.  The overgrown tree branches that grow every which way leaves traces of dark shadows, leaving Harry to grip Niall’s hand to stave off his fright.  
  
Once Niall left the monastery, Harry announced he’d given up the deed to his old home to the highest bidder.  Within days, there were numerous offers to buy the untouched land, and Harry was pleased when it was sold to a newly emigrated family from Spain.  But before the deeds were to be handed over, Harry had to face his past to give the land a new future.  
  
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Niall gently asks.  “Just say the word and we’ll leave right away.”  Harry swallows and shakes his head, taking in a deep breath when he looks at his home again.  
  
“I’ve been avoiding this my whole life.  This is no demon, but it was always in the back of my mind, coming back here.  This might be the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”  Harry shivers despite the lack of a breeze, and Niall holds his hand a little tighter.  
  
“I won’t be too long,” Harry assures him, then asks, “will you wait for me?”  
  
Niall gives him a quick kiss, and smiles when Harry turns red.  “I’ll be right here.”  
  
By the time Harry is finished, Niall is waiting for him by the door, extending an arm to escort him from of the house.  Niall looks over his shoulder at the dying home, watching it grow smaller the farther they walk away.  Harry makes no effort to look back, his fingers intertwined with Niall’s, keeping his eyes on the grassy road that leads back to the farm instead.  
  
Niall doesn’t ask about Harry’s time to himself, but he’s curious of the broken necklace in his hand, a silver locket with the letter ‘A’ engraved into its aged metal.  Niall wonders if it belonged to Harry’s mother, imagining its chain hanging from her neck as she leaned over the secret passageway, telling Harry she loves him with a kiss to his forehead, knowing it would be the last time her son would ever see her alive.  
  
Niall shudders from the goosebumps that spread over his arms and shoulders, wanting to never think of that moment again now that Harry’s made peace with his past.  
  
“It’s been so quiet at home since Liam took up the captain’s offer to join the guard,” Harry says as he tucks the locket away.  “I always knew he was meant for more than just farming, he’s always been so eager to fight for the kingdom.  It’s too bad his mum’s been crying about it for the last two weeks.  I can’t even tell the difference between her wailing and the rooster’s crow!”  
  
Niall bursts with laughter, bending over to hold his stomach, the scar of his wound a little sensitive to his full body reaction.  “But Liam goes home every night, doesn’t he?  It can’t be that bad if he’s still around.”  
  
“That’s what I tell her, but she just won’t listen to reason!” Harry laughs with him.  “I guess it’s just taking a while for her to understand that he has another life outside of the farm now.  Imagine what she’ll be like if I end up leaving.”  
  
“She’ll most likely be distraught when I take you to France,” Niall teases, and Harry gives him a snort.  
  
“France!  Have you ever actually been there?”  
  
“Of course I have!  They do make the best wine, after all.”  
  
“Your dreams are bigger than the promises you keep,” Harry retorts sarcastically.  
  
“Need you always ruin the moment?  Play with me for once!”  
  
“Oh, all right,” Harry laughs, “amuse me, o mysterious Niall.  What _ever_ would we do in France?”  
  
Niall steps ahead of Harry, walking backwards with their hands still linked.  “We’ll visit the countryside!” he exclaims.  “We’ll learn the ways of French farming and cooking, and we’ll love it so much we end up staying longer than we should.”  
  
“What else?” Harry eagerly asks.  
  
“We’ll have our own farm!  We’ll buy a land as big as this kingdom with a vineyard, so we’ll always have the best wine for ourselves.”  
  
“I’ll help tend to our horses, feed the ducks and chickens, and chase away all the rabbits that eat everything we’ve planted in our garden.”  
  
“A garden!  I think I’d like that.”  Niall stops and tugs on Harry’s hand, pulling him closer for a quick kiss.  “And at the end of a long and hot day, we’ll lie on the grass to watch the sun go down, just like we always do.”  
  
Harry moans in satisfaction, holding Niall by the small of his back.  “How long would we stay on our little French farm?”  
  
“As long as you’d like.”  
  
“And we’d be happy?”  
  
Niall looks up with a smile.  “All my days with you are my happiest.”  
  
“And mine, with you,” Harry kisses him, “my prince.”


End file.
